Duality
by Ageless Drake
Summary: Okita finds the duality in life. Rated for implied homosexual sex. HijiOki


It is an odd thing Okita finds, to sit among the others not as a fellow but now as something akin to a leader: this powerful thing with a title, and a duty, and swords—Kami, the swords, which he has known, but are somehow obscure and heavy and so very, very _deadly_ now that they have a purpose to hang at his hip, beyond honor. There is a duality now, here, standing in Kyoto and being this new person, though he hasn't changed at all.

Hijikata has and that, beyond all things in this duality, saddens Okita beyond all belief that he can seem to fathom as he sits in the dining area, and gives this slightly older man, this _vice commander_ those sidelong looks he always used to, but they too now have a duality to them—he is looking to _look_, of course, but also to watch, which is an odd thing indeed.

Change, he has heard, is a good thing, but Okita does not want to believe. He has changed enough from what he was to what he is and there is nothing more to change—any more and he would become more the demon than he is now and that is a frightful thought, in and of itself.

He sits alone now, different than the others, unlike them in so few ways that it is noticeable and harsh and unforgiving.

The night, high above him, is desolate, the stars hard to pick out because the lights of Kyoto, however dim, still manage to hide the black expanse above. And he sighs, heavy-hearted and, standing, goes on a long walk that he makes on a constant basis that never seems to get any shorter.

There are murmurs behind the fusuma that make Okita stop for a moment, before they still, and he stands back into the shadows, watching Kondo walk away, leaving the fusuma open for light to spill out over the walk where Okita stands, at once somehow elated and petrified.

He stands outside the fusuma and taps his hand gently against the frame, leaning in a little and offering a beaming smile.

"Are you busy, Hijikata-san?"

Hijikata looks up from his things, looks confused, and gestures absently at the papers he has been looking over.

"Nothing that can't wait. What is it?" And there is that duality there: the gentle coupled with the abrasive. Okita steps in, his head bowed, and sits quietly beside Hijikata, at a loss, once again, on what to do now that he has been given the opportunity to do it.

He places a hand on Okita's neck, and just leaves it there for a moment; Okita looks up, smiling and almost unsure, and Hijikata frowns, removing his hand.

"What's wrong?"

He finds, deep inside, that he cannot say it, no matter how much he wills the words to his lips. He cannot act nor react. All he can do is reach over, and wrap his arms gracelessly around Hijikata, and lean against him powerfully.

And that feels far more natural than anything he could have ever said, as they tumble, far more gracefully than he had thrown himself, to rest against Hijikata's chest, perhaps too comfortably, and listen to the thrum of his heart, which races for a moment as Hijikata carefully keeps his hands away from Okita.

Okita shivers than, readies himself to move at the slightest tensing in Hijikata's chest. But the tensing that does come pins him down as Hijikata brings his arms slowly around Okita's waist, and simply holds him, just so.

For a moment, the duality is gone. Okita smiles, and nestles against Hijikata's side slightly, one hand gripping the collar of the older man's yukata, tugging at it pointlessly.

"What are you doing, Souji?"

"I don't know."

There are no lies, no duality, here and now and with this happening. He cannot bear to stop this, not now, not ever, and he takes that with him, as he moves about, and Hijikata simply watches him for the moment, and then with a suddenness that is powerful and wonderful and _hungry_, there is movement between the both of them, and that is nothing more then necessary.

But the fusuma is open, and Hijikata is not above being paranoid. He peers over his shoulder at it absently, watches it as though expecting for someone to stride up and be accusing of this, of all of this. The shame is there in his eyes when Okita can drive his attention back, distant and dark and powerful, and Okita can do nothing to shake it off, despite his faithful attempts.

He lays still moments after, as Hijikata somehow summons strength and shuts his damn fusuma. Okita stares at the ceiling, is silent, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

It never does. Hijikata is a creature of duality, but cruelty has only a place on the field of battle. Here, now, he is a soft thing, which unsettles Okita from his perceptions though not enough to drive him into motion.

"They'll ask," Hijikata says, tracing the line of Okita's neck. He squirms, sighs a little, lets his eyes close for a moment, then open and meet Hijikata's.

"I might, as well." And to that Hijikata has nothing to say. It is a powerful thing, Okita realizes, being able to make Hijikata that silent. He sits up and gathers about himself the propriety that he will need to leave.

Hijikata catches him before he can rush away, and Okita stares at the contrast of their skin at his wrist, then into the vice commander's eyes.

There are no words.

There is no need for them.

Okita smiles, bows, and tightens his collar a bit, concealing the last vestiges of their lovemaking. There is no need to frighten the others with tales of a kappa in their midst.


End file.
